Beauty of a Heart
by lickitysplit
Summary: With the arrival of spring, Nadja has only a short amount of time to enjoy a bit of freedom from her overprotected life. She ventures out to visit the sole cherry blossom tree in Liones, that connects her to both a past and future that seem very far out of reach.


**Summary:** With the arrival of spring, Nadja has only a short amount of time to enjoy a bit of freedom from her overprotected life. She ventures out to visit the sole cherry blossom tree in Liones, that connects her to both a past and future that seem very far out of reach.

 **A/N:** Welcome to this oneshot! Last week I hit 1000 followers on Tumblr (my name there is maybeishouldwait, and I have even more writing posted on my blog!) so I held a question and answer session as a way to celebrate. Everyone who submitted asks were entered into a drawing for a commission of their choosing, and the winner was princessfroslass! They asked for a piece about Nadja that involved cherry blossoms, so this fic and the picture with it are my gift. Please enjoy!

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 ** _The only lasting beauty is the beauty of a heart._**  
 ** _—Rumi_**

Spring had come to Liones, arriving in a sudden burst in which the kingdom had gone to bed with traces of snow on the ground and dusting the barren branches of the trees, only to wake up with the world covered in sunshine and green. The air had shifted from a damp chill to a lovely warmth, the children shedding their coats as they ran outdoors, the adults commenting to one another and even strangers about how the weather had changed.

For the princess of Liones, spring meant freedom. It was a precious few weeks before the cold winter kept her indoors _("You know cold air isn't good for your heart, Nadja")_ and the heat of summer sent her back again _("The sun is bad for you, you have to stay inside, Nadja")_.

But in the sweet spot of early April, when the trees came back to life and the birds began to chirp and the ground became soft under her feet, Nadja could go outside. She is supposed to ask permission, but that usually means a consultation with the doctor, and her nurse, then speaking to the king and queen and any number of advisors and tutors until it goes around and around. So when she opens her window in the morning to see the sprinkle of color on the world, Nadja grabs her things and slips on her boots and shawl as she hurries out of her room and into the outdoors.

She does not bother with permissions, snatching a sweet roll from the carts that are lined up for breakfast and slips out of the kitchen door. Her shawl helps hide the telltale lavender hair of the princess, enough so she looks like a knight's daughter or servant girl on an errand with her pack in hand and skirt hiked up over boots. At the armory she hangs a right to head eastward, stopping for several minutes to catch her breath. It is difficult to walk long distances, especially at the pace she is maintaining, and the very last thing Nadja needs is a fainting spell. Then she'll be lucky to be allowed to the dining hall.

Once her legs stop trembling and her breathing eases, she continues her walk, this time taking things a bit slower. Minutes later her destination comes into view: the palace gardens, the one place where she can put her life behind her and simply be.

The gardens had been a present from her great-grandfather, King Godfrey, to her great-grandmother, Queen Eleanora. When Godfrey married the girl, she had cried for a week, homesick for the country and hating the hard stone of the capital city. Terribly in love with his bride, Godfrey had a portion of the castle torn down and installed a garden on two acres of land as his wedding gift. It is a little world of its own within the bustling castle and the busy city that surrounded it, and the groundskeepers keep the grasses tall and thick, the trees well looked after, and flowers blooming almost constantly from March until November.

The gate around the garden is thick with ivy, the doors always left open for visitors on Eleanora's long-standing orders. Nadja pauses as she always does to trace the outline of the queen carved in iron into the gate, smiling at the simple beauty of it all. Silently she says a prayer to her in thanks for providing her great-granddaughter a place to also hide from the stuffy life of royalty.

The paths are well-maintained, making it easy for the princess to weave through the freshly planted grasses. By summer they will be waist-high, but for now they brush her ankles as she carefully stays on the dirt lane. Buds dot the landscape in pink, white, and yellow, making Nadja smile, the life blooming around her feeding her lungs and her veins with a renewed energy.

Nadja makes a beeline for her true destination. In the center of the garden grows a magnificent tree. Its trunk is thick and dark, its branches wide and twisting against the light blue sky. This tree is special, as it only blooms once a year. For a week only it is covered in blooms of white and pale pink, the mystery of the tree's sudden and brief blooming going back decades. After Godfrey's death, his son returned to take the throne, bringing the tree with him from his travels east. King Bayford planted it in the garden with his grieving mother, becoming a symbol of the Liones family.

As she approaches, the princess smiles to see the buds just beginning. In a day or two they will be in full bloom, and many of the citizens of Liones will journey to the castle to see them. But at present she is blissfully alone, and she pulls her shawl off of her head as she moves under the branches to sit up against the base of the tree, her eyes looking upwards through the branches to the sky.

Heart swelling with happiness, Nadja sighs. Her ankles cross as she breathes slowly, deeply, thinking of her family that goes back ten generations. Godfrey had loved his bride so much he destroyed his own castle to make her happy; it is said that if the garden had not pleased her he would have had the palace moved to the forests of Briannia brick by brick. Would she ever find such love, find someone to sacrifice for her, find someone she wants to give to in turn? Would she know what it is to have a man dry her tears, whisper a promise and keep it, to make a vow as she wears a white dress and offer her his world?

Her gaze drops to the grass, her fingertips grazing the tops. Nadja is only fourteen, just beginning the bloom of womanhood, and she blushes just as feverishly as the girls in her books do when she walks by the training fields of the apprentice Holy Knights. She smiles to herself to think of one looking _her_ way, or a prince from another kingdom, or even a boy who works in the market. Perhaps one day, when her body is stronger, they can travel to the east and see the forests of cherry blossom trees that bloom for one week a year. This one is so beautiful, she can only imagine being surrounded by hundreds of them. She would bring back more saplings and plant them here, so she would always remember.

Nadja hears her name being called, but it is far off; for now, she gives herself over to the idea. She pictures Bayford, young and brave and sorrowful, lending strength to the queen as they press the rich earth around the roots of the tree. Would she have a son so thoughtful, so adventurous to travel so far away? Would he come home to comfort his people and bring a precious gift?

"Nadja!"

The urgent voice jolts her from picturing a tall knight with soft features, whipping her head around to see her brother, Bartra, striding towards her.

She sits up quickly as he approaches, and the boy—who is not a boy either, just as she is no longer simply a girl, the sword hanging at his side and the confident stride making it plain enough—stands over her with arms folded. His mouth twists into a disapproving pucker, but his eyes are kind, sparkling with relief and a reluctant amusement. "There you are!" he scolds. "The castle has been turned upside down to find you."

"I'm fine, I'm here, can't you see that?" Nadja leans forward and props her elbows on her thighs. "So go back to the castle and tell them that."

"Absolutely not. Father would have my head." He looks around with a frown. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to see the cherry blossom tree," replies the princess. "In a day it will be overrun by people, but I like the quiet."

"Hmph." Bartra still seems displeased, but his temper is melting as he breathes in the morning breeze. "Fine. You've had your look. Now let's—"

"No! No, please!" Nadja scrambles to her knees and tugs on her brother's sleeve until he bends down next to her. "Just a few more minutes," she sighs. "It's spring, I'm allowed out in the spring."

Bartra has the good sense to at least blush a bit as he sits on the ground next to her. She flashes him a sweet smile and settles back again. They share a quiet moment, but then Nadja says quietly, "Were they really worried?"

"Yes, of course," he answers, just as softly.

A flush of embarrassment colors her cheeks. "Why must everyone be so protective?" Bartra begins an answer, but she protests, "I want to go on adventures like Denzel or be important like you! I'm the oldest and I am…"

She looks away, flustered by her outburst. "I'm no one special," Nadja whispers.

"What a load of nonsense." The princess looks in surprise at Bartra, who is back to his disapproving glare. "You're the very heart of this kingdom."

Nadja's lips twitch in a hidden smile. "It is ironic for you to say that, since mine is so weak."

Bartra blanches, his eyes going wide with horror. "Oh Nadja, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I know, I know," she says quickly, waving her hand. "I just meant…" The girl heaves another sigh, looking up at the branches again. "I want to be someone important. I want to be important to _someone_. I don't want to be the girl with the weak heart."

"Have you ever thought that is why?" Nadja peers at him out of the corner of her eye and he smiles. "Your heart is weak because you have given it away."

She blinks at him, thinking this over. "I don't feel like I have," she says finally.

Bartra shrugs, the playful demeanor receding. "It's just a theory."

Afraid he will insist on going back, Nadja prods, "And what about you? What about your heart?"

"I don't know if I need such a thing," he laughs.

Now it was Nadja's turn to chuckle. "Nonsense. You'll meet a lovely young woman and have lots of children—"

"Sons only please," he corrects. "Girls are much too much trouble."

"Noooo," she teases. "Have daughters, lots of them, each more beautiful than the last."

"Only if they have lavender hair like yours," Bartra complies.

Nadja smiles warmly, a breeze lifting her hair as if on cue. Another quiet moment settles on them, both admiring the blossoms of the tree. Finally he suggests gently they return to the castle before all of Liones is turned out looking for her. Nadja blushes a bit and nods, taking the hand he offers once he stands.

"You are destined for great things, I think," Bartra says suddenly.

The princess frowns as she settles on her feet. "Have you had a vision?"

"No," he says, and Nadja feels as though he looks older than his thirteen years, feeling as though she sees her own vision of the king he will become. "I just know it in my heart."

Nadja laughs and shakes her head. "Hearts are faulty, you know."

"Perhaps, but you will do something to change the kingdom. To change the very course of Britannia." His face is so earnest that she can only blink in surprise, her chest tightening a bit as Bartra continues, "You will change history, and it will be because of your perfectly imperfect heart."

Nadja gives a little gasp, and Bartra looks at her with a startled concern. Then she leans up to give her tall little brother a kiss on the cheek, just as another breeze rustles the trees, the first pink petals falling as the blossoms begin opening.


End file.
